Sexual Autopsy
by Neviana
Summary: Oneshot. Yes, EXACTLY like it sounds.


**Sexual Autopsy**

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_I dream of stealing your face and sucking your tongue out of your mouth_  
_Cutting off your hands and putting them wherever I want_  
_Removing your jaw and fixing it on my neck_  
_Sewing your ear close to my mouth_  
_Stabbing your nails into my back_  
_Detaching your legs and putting them around me_  
_Tying together the ends safely, stapling your eyes to the bed frame_

_Visiting hours and three to ten in the usual place inside my head_  
_So come and stop on by today_

-Kate Meyers

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Maybe her whole life up until now had been a dream.

Yeah. Just a dream.

She'd never seen anything quite so gruesome or magnificent in her entire life. The skin so cool, so white, so remarkably crisp and clean—stained so irrevocably around the deep canyons of open fraying flesh—so stark against the polished steel table. The body laid before her in such a vulgar display, like a feast served up on a silver platter.

So, _is it him, Ms. Valentine? _A voice drifted past her, its unflinching evenness setting her on edge.

Is it him? Hard to believe one so magnificent, one so guarded and invulnerable lay before her so exposed. So human.

Is it him?

What a ridiculous question. How was she to answer? What was there to say?

That she'd memorized the hard lines of his body first with her fingers, then her tongue? That she knew exactly the way his muscles would tense under his skin were she to bite his neck softly? Then harder. Sucking, tasting.

Scraping her nails hard against the corrugated muscles of his stomach. Feeling his whole body tense as she sucked his tongue into her mouth, slick and smooth. Swallowing a strangled moan, a broken curse.

She saw the dirt under his fingernails and wondered if it had lingered there since the last time they were on Venus. A dark alleyway. Memories of throwing his body hard against the wall. Pinning him with hands, then hips and lips. She heard the scrape of fingernails on brick as he whispered something about her compromising their stakeout. About recklessness and—

Didn't take more than drawing his lip between her teeth to shut him up. One nip to whet her appetite. Another to satisfy the urge to devour him whole. It wasn't enough. Was never enough. Especially not when he moaned like that. When he moved like that.

God, but she loved the way his body moved. Loved the hardness and the friction of him pressing against her. Into her. Loved watching the control he possessed speak through the involuntary twitch of the muscles in his thighs and the shudder of his breath against her ear.

_Is it him?_

She couldn't reconcile the stillness of the body before her with the memory of hot flesh pressed against hot flesh. Of half-whispered commands. Harder. Faster. Deeper.

But the skin looked familiar. Rent and red and angry. Swollen and abused. Every bruise a memory of her thumbs pressing hard into his skin. A trail of blooming purple contusions over his spine like a map of where her hands had been.

Every laceration the result of her tongue searing across helpless, willing flesh. The gash opening over his shoulder. The canyon running down his abdomen. The cut broken and bleeding over his bottom lip the distant memory of the brand of her teeth.

And jagged furrows along his back and thighs and backside. Greedy fingers transcribing need to skin.

She felt elated at that. His body telling a story. Her story.

Because he'd never talked much. And that was okay. Talking wasn't what they did best, anyway. Talking meant breaking down walls. Opening up beyond the mere parting of lips and thighs. Exposure in a manner far more intimate than the mere surrender of their bodies to one another.

But this. This was different. This was open and honest and unflinchingly brutal in only the way a scene played out beneath the cool glare of fluorescent lighting could be. This was—real. More real than the faraway feeling of hooking her legs around his hips as he entered her. Than the scream that tore from her mouth as she came—than the tickle in the back of her throat she felt even now. Than the feeling of his heart beating hard against her chest as she collapsed on top of him.

There were no walls for him to hide behind now. No more ghosts of blonde haired girls haunting the dark corners of his mind, no more demons chasing at his heels. Now, in this moment, he was hers. Wholly. Completely. Finally.

She breathed deep. Yes. This was real. There were no more nightmares. No more dreams.

And all that existed was this moment, this room, this feeling—the two of them alone with their pasts intertwined and the present folding in around them, binding them.

Closer now than they'd ever been. And now all that remained was to reach out and touch him. Finally—for the first time.

She let her long pink fingers trail lightly over his, hoping that maybe this last time she could give him a little of her warmth. A small piece of herself that he could take with him from this life into the next. She circled the large joint of his wrist with her fingertips. One of the few remaining places he was pure white. Unmarred. Perfect. She couldn't remember ever touching him here.

"Yes—"

She breathed the word with reverence, letting it remain on her lips as long as time would allow. "It's him," she said.

She breathed deep, feeling the future stretching before her, limitless. Turned on her heel. Took one step forward, then another. Felt her fingers close firmly around the polished steel handle of the door.

Then the feeling of hot fingers trailing up her spine, slowly, possessively. A cool burst of breath against her ear as an icy hand closed around her wrist, pulling her back.

"Going somewhere, Romani?"

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_(A/N: So there you have it. A crazy, creepy little one shot born of late night conversations, too much caffeine, and a few twisted thoughts. Many thanks to ssg for planting this idea into my head. I have a feeling that when she said "This song deserves a oneshot!" she was being facetious. So, the moral of the story? Careful what you wish for! Especially when what you wish for comes back to haunt you in the form of zombie Spike. Yikes! And of course, as always, much love to my girl animecatdragon--friend, editor, love of my life!_

_So that's it for now. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_Till next time,_

_Nevi_


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